


trust

by onbeinganangel



Series: kinkuary 2021 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (no they’re not going horse riding and the crops are not for the dragons), Begging, Bondage, Charlie Weasley is Mean Just The Way You Wanted Him, Face Slapping, HP Kinkuary 2021, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Riding Crops, d/s dynamics, it is implied that Harry is a Bit of a Slag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29194860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbeinganangel/pseuds/onbeinganangel
Summary: Charlie knows now that being a brat is Harry’s nature. Harry knows he’ll get something out of it. Which doesn’t mean Charlie won’t make him suffer for it.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley
Series: kinkuary 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137662
Comments: 15
Kudos: 108
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	trust

**Author's Note:**

> I... well, I have no excuse for this. Just giving the people the Charlie Weasley we all want.
> 
> Credit where it's due, this is most definitely deeply influenced by everyone’s favourite portrayal of Charlie by the incredibly talented lq_traintracks, [Charlie Weasley's Fuck Autobiography](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145117), which you should read if you haven't, and should probably re-read if you have. It's been a tough year. You deserve it.
> 
> Not to sound like a broken record, but [Uphorie](https://uphorie.tumblr.com) is a beta to die for. Thank you, Ady!

Charlie doesn’t tell Harry how hot he finds it the more desperate Harry is.

“I’d be careful who you show your little claws around here. It won’t do to forget what I do for a living, sweetheart. I’m not scared of kittens,” he whispers in Harry’s ear, close enough that he knows his breath will make Harry tingle, but not close enough he’s actually touching Harry. He watches the full body shiver as his words sink in.

They’re not dating. They’re not even exclusively fucking. At the end of the day, he knows Harry is in Romania to hide, to get his head in order, to find himself or whatever other spiritual bullshit the Prophet claims he’s doing. Last time they’d checked, Harry was in Thailand on a yoga retreat. It’s nothing like that. 

Harry needed peace after five years of constant harassment by the press. And if he’d found peace in Charlie’s bed, well, that was just a bonus.

They’d shared a few beers one night and Charlie doesn’t remember in what context they got to that particular conversation, but he very clearly remembers asking “Hold up, just how many Weasleys have you slept with?” The reason Charlie remembers it so clearly is because it’s impossible to forget how Harry had squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, the flirty half-smile completing the look and answered, cool as a cucumber. “You make it sound so bad. Only two. Unless you care to make it three?”

Charlie knows now that being a brat is Harry’s nature. Harry knows he’ll get something out of it. Which doesn’t mean Charlie won’t make him suffer for it.

If he’s being honest, Charlie doesn’t know which one of them enjoys it more — the punisher or the punished. Either way, it works.

Tonight, Harry had decided to come into the canteen where Charlie was talking to a few of the other tamers and blatantly flirt with him. It wasn’t exactly in the open that they were fucking, but it wasn’t a secret either. But Harry had been pushy, pushier than ever and Charlie did not enjoy being pushed. 

Harry had obviously wanted to be reminded who was in charge. That, Charlie had no problem with. Which is how Harry found himself in his current position, laying flat on Charlie’s bed, hands cuffed together above his head, ankles chained to the bedposts.

“Let’s try again. Your hour is almost up, sweetheart. Are we ready to be nice?” Charlie asks, and slides the riding crop down from Harry’s chin, to his chest, down to his navel. He stops just above Harry’s hard and leaking prick for what must be at least the fiftieth time that afternoon.

He watches Harry clench his jaw, his abs tense up.

“You can speak, Harry.”

“Just touch me, Charlie.”

Charlie chuckles. _Oh, Harry._

“That’s a no, then. _Wonderful_. I’m feeling benevolent, so I’m going to give you one more chance,” Charlie says. He steps closer to Harry, puts a knee on the bed right by Harry’s hip, leans over him, and continues, “if the clock hits four and you’ve not learnt how to play nice, we’ll go for another hour. And I have dragons to tend to at five, so… think about your options carefully. I’ll give you a couple of minutes to think.”

Harry breathes out of his nose, loudly, and shuffles on the bed. His eyes are still closed. Charlie touches the riding crop to Harry’s hands, above his head, and slides it down his left arm, slowly, then up his right arm.

“You’ve got two minutes, sweetheart. But don’t let me rush you, by any means.”

He knows Harry won’t break until the last second, the stubborn wanker.

Harry’s eyes open at the sound of Charlie’s belt buckle being undone and his belt being pulled off the loops on his jeans. 

This whole time Harry has been naked and on display for Charlie, who has touched him everywhere except for where he most needs it. Charlie had been topless before they even reached his place, but the jeans had been kept on. 

Charlie leaves the belt on the bed, just by Harry’s foot — you never know when that’ll come in handy. He watches Harry follow his movements, gulping loudly at the sight of the belt, and then again as Charlie pops the button open on his jeans, and pulls them down together with his pants in one go.

“Charlie,” Harry starts. Here we go.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Touch me.”

Bloody hell. 

“Harry,” he warns. “One minute.”

“Charlie,” he says again.

Gods.

Charlie takes his cock in hand, sighing at the relief. “I’m more than happy to just finish myself on you and leave you here until I’m back at eight, you know?”

Harry grumbles.

“Thirty seconds. Say the word.”

Charlie strokes himself loosely, knowing Harry is watching, but his eyes are on the clock on the wall.

Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen.

“Charlie.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…

“Please.”

_Ah!_

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it, sweetheart?”

“Please, Charlie, please.”

Charlie loves this. It’s the best part of teasing Harry until near-breaking point. Once he starts begging, there’s no stopping him.

“You’re gonna have to tell me what you want, Harry.”

Harry squirms, pulls against his heavy cuffs.

“Please touch me, Char— oh!”

Charlie drags the tip of the crop across Harry’s balls, then up his shaft, and gives Harry’s cock the gentlest of taps on the head, which makes Harry squirm even harder.

“Fuck, Charlie.”

“Sweetheart, that mouth. Come on,” he drags the crop back down, “you know better than that.”

“Please, please touch me.”

“I am.”

“Touch me with your hands.”

Of course.

“Magic word?”

“Please, Charlie, use your hands.”

So Charlie does, riding crop and belt discarded and swept from the bed onto the floor in one motion, as he kneels in between Harry’s spread legs and grabs Harry’s cock by the root.

“You won’t come until I say you can.”

He’s sure Harry’s reply is meant to be a word but it comes out as nothing more than a warbled desperate sound.

Charlie watches a bead of sweat travel down Harry’s neck and hit the duvet. He watches, in awe, how Harry’s skin breaks into goosebumps when he softly caresses the skin on his hips and thighs, reddened by the crop.

Charlie starts slowly, as he always does. A loose fist around Harry’s cock.

It starts slowly, as it always does. Desperate words from Harry’s mouth.

“Please.” Charlie lets go and lifts his flattened open palm to his mouth and licks. Harry arches his back.

“Please.” He wraps his hand around Harry, tight this time.

“Please, Charlie, please.” He strokes, hard and fast. Once, twice, three times.

“Pl— please.” He swaps hands. Uses his right to tease Harry’s hole. He has no intentions of actually penetrating Harry. Not for many hours.

“Fuck! Please.” He slaps Harry’s face, tells him off for his language.

“Please, please, please, please, please.” He puts a little more pressure on Harry’s arsehole. For a second, he’s tempted.

“God, Charlie, please.” He speeds up, tightens his fist around Harry’s cock. Watches Harry’s eyelids flutter.

“Please, please, please, please.” He keeps going. Harry’s shivering, sweating, moaning, pulling at all four cuffs. He’d hurt himself if Charlie let him.

“Uh. Uh. Please. Charlie. Ah. Charlie!” He knows Harry’s close, but he knows he’ll say it when he needs to. He may be a brat, but he’s good when it comes down to it.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, god, Charlie.” He rolls Harry’s balls in his hand. Hard, tense, just about ready to burst.

“Please, please, please, Charlie, let me come.” Fuck. Charlie could come just from watching him. 

“I need to come, please, I can’t take it.” Merlin, look at him.

“I need to come, please, please, please, please.”

Harry is sobbing, openly, sucking in big desperate gulps of air, tears streaming down his face, thighs shaking.

“Come, sweetheart,” Charlie says.

And Harry does, back arching against the bed, hands gripping at nothing above his head, eyes shut tight, mouth open but without a sound. 

“That’s it. That should do it, teach you to keep your little kitten claws away,” he says, as Harry shakes, sighs in relief. 

“Let me touch you. You’re so hard,” Harry says, all tired voice but eager eyes.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, as he grabs his boxers from the floor. “I’ve got stuff to do, but I’ll see you at eight.” 

Harry gasps.

He’s not _a monster_ , he grabs his wand and casts a Scourgify and a temperature balancing charm at Harry, making sure he doesn’t get too hot or too cold while he’s away.

“Charlie, please, no.”

Charlie pulls his jeans up and slides his t-shirt back on.

“What’s your safe word?”

Harry’s jaw clenches, then shakes his head. “No.”

Charlie put his boots on but doesn’t bother lacing them properly. He’ll do it later.

“I’ll see you at eight. I’ll bring dinner. If it gets too much, use your safeword and the cuffs will open.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry exhales.

“Be good, sweetheart,” he says, opens the door and strides over to the dragon enclosure, in an exceptionally good mood.

**Author's Note:**

> for a more hyperactive and extremely chatty version of me, come say hi [on tumblr](https://onbeinganangel.tumblr.com)


End file.
